Hackney: A police assault against America

A day after a black man was killed in an officer-involved shooting in Baton Rouge, La., a 31-year-old black man was shot and killed by police during a traffic stop Wednesday in Falcon Heights, Minn.
USA TODAY

A crowd gathers at the scene of the shooting where Philando Castile was shot involving a St. Anthony Police officer July 6, 2016, in Falcon Heights, Minn. Castile later died.(Photo: Leila Navidi/Associated Press)

Story Highlights

It is devastating to watch someone who looks like you, someone who could be your brother or uncle or father or nephew or cousin, so callously killed.

I am so weary. I am so angry. I want to throw things. And scream. And cry. I live in a country where it feels as if the execution of African-American men and boys is as tolerated as lynching once was.

Yes, I know the circumstances are different; the police are not the Klan. But when seemingly innocent black men die at the hands of those who are supposed to protect and to serve, the outrage many of us feel is the same.

In the past two days, we’ve had to bear witness to two more black men dying after being gunned down by police. It would seem to be a historical re-enactment; today, officers’ bullets and chokeholds and tases have replaced the nooses that used to snuff the life out of those without social and political privilege.

Welcome to that club, Alton Sterling and Philando Castile. Your recent predecessors, John Crawford III, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Tamir Rice — too many to name — also came in contact with police alive, only to end up dead.

And thanks to technology, we all got to witness it happen. Public executions by police officers.

In my world, in my community, we are outraged. We are speechless. We are in severe pain. It is devastating to watch someone who looks like you, someone who could be your brother or uncle or father or nephew or cousin, so callously killed. It debilitates us to think how the children of these victims, especially those who witness such killings, will navigate their lives after such an ordeal.

I fought with myself all day Wednesday. I knew if I watched the full video of Sterling, 37, being gunned down by Baton Rouge police I would accomplish little else. As it was, I struggled just to get up and go to the gym after watching some of the safe-for-television footage that morning.

Thursday I awoke to the news of another shooting death of a black man, this time at the hands of an officer in a St. Paul, Minn., suburb. Castile, the victim, was 32. A 4-year-old child watched from the backseat as the slumped and bloodied man, still wearing a seat belt, took his last breath.

Castile’s girlfriend live-streamed the aftermath of the shooting on Facebook. Once again I didn’t want to see the grisly execution, but honestly, what was I trying to avoid? The feeling of bile rising in my throat was already there.

I watched as Castile’s girlfriend, Diamond Reynolds, calmly explained that Castile, who she said informed the officer that he was licensed and was carrying a firearm, had just been shot while reaching for his wallet to hand to the officer.

With the officer’s gun pointed into the open window, Reynolds addressed the officer as sir. He repeatedly told her to keep her hands where he could see them. Castile gurgled and moaned. Then he was silent.

“Please don’t tell me that he’s gone,” Reynolds said. “Please don’t tell me that he’s gone. Please officer, don’t tell me that you just did this to him. You shot four bullets into him, sir. He was just getting his license and registration, sir.”

It crushes our souls that we’re told by officials and by our friends and neighbors that we must wait for all the facts to come out before rushing to judgment. We know what our eyes have seen. And in our minds we’re already playing out how these officers will be acquitted.

It’s insulting when our white counterparts shrug and are quick to find an excuse to defend the officer, especially when those excuses often don’t ring true. Much of society finds it easier to be an apologist for police — even when they perpetrate unwarranted violence driven by racism — than feel compassion for their black victims.

“He shouldn’t have run.”

“Do what you’re told by police, and you won’t get killed.”

“He had a criminal record.”

More offensive are those who try to deflect the savage injustice of police misconduct occurring on our streets. Let me warn you, I am not here for that. Don’t talk to me about the shootings in Chicago. Don’t dare bring up so-called black-on-black crime. Keep on stepping if you feel compelled to tell me #AllLivesMatter. Your disingenuous concerns about urban crime and all lives are nothing more than confirmation that you don’t have a problem with the inhumane treatment of African Americans.

What world do we live in where people seemed to be more concerned about the recent killing of Harambe, a silverback gorilla at the Cincinnati Zoo, than by the persistent killings of black men by police for minor offenses or worse yet, no offense?

I sense a divide, a chasm of concern and ideology, both on social media and in my workplace. One of my black co-workers had to leave the office Thursday because she was so upset. Another came to my desk to whisper her anger and fear. But for many in white America, it’s business as usual. Black America is using social media to voice their dismay, to share their own frightening encounters with out-of-control police, to mourn. Among my white friends and co-workers, I haven’t seen anything close to that level of anger and anxiety.

I can understand if people are uncertain about how to react, but silence isn’t acceptable. All Americans should be outraged by what happened to Sterling and Castile. So, please, raise your voice. Demand justice. Let us know you care.

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Hundreds gather at the JJ Hill Montessori School July 7, 2016, in St. Paul, Minn. for a vigil following the shooting death by police of Philando Castile Wednesday night in Falcon Heights, Minn. after a traffic stop by St. Anthony police.
Jim Mone, AP

Hundreds gather at the JJ Hill Montesorri School Thursday, July 7, 2016, in St. Paul, Minn. for a vigil following the shooting death by police of Philando Castile Wednesday night in Falcon Heights, Minn. after a traffic stop by St. Anthony police. (AP Photo/Jim Mone) ORG XMIT: MNJM117
Jim Mone, AP

Brian Herron, pastor of Zion Baptist Church in Minneapolis, speaks to protesters about the police shooting of Philando Castile, in front of the Governor's Mansion in St. Paul.
Craig Lassig, European Pressphoto Agency

A woman joins others gathered at the scene of a police involved shooting July 6, 2016 in Falcon Heights, Minn. St. Anthony Police. uthorities say St. Anthony Police were conducting a traffic stop when an officer fired at least one shot at Philando Castile in the car. He was taken to Hennepin County Medical Center for treatment, where he later died, family members confirmed.
Leila Navidi, AP

Authorities say St. Anthony Police were conducting a traffic stop when an officer fired at least one shot at Philando Castile in the car. He was taken to Hennepin County Medical Center for treatment, where he later died, family members confirmed.
Family/Facebook